See You Then
by Bitter Shadow
Summary: John meets a strange kid in the park. He found himself drawn to him. And despite his sister's wishes, he truly hopes he'll see this boy again. Just a fluffy one shot


"Sorry, could you pass me that?" the little blond boy gave a shy smile and held out his arms for his ball. The taller boy with the messy black curls picked it up curiously and threw it gently to him, watching him scramble to catch it. "Thank you. Um, are you alone?"

He simply shrugged and suddenly the boy sat down beside him. He rolled the ball in his hands and hummed happily. He found himself envious of this simple child with his easily achieved happiness. "Want to be friends? I'm John."

He blinked at this so called John. This was clearly a trick. "But you don't know me, why would you want to be my friend? It's illogical."

"I guess, but if we're friends then I could get to know you. You just seem kind of lonely all by yourself." And then he smiled a big, dumb smile that made Sherlock's composure melt.

"I'm not lonely," he mumbled. "I don't need any friends."

John-if that even was his real name-though he did look like a John-was about to speak, but was interrupted by a far off boy. "John, are you coming back?" Sherlock jumped as his thoughts were interrupted by this loud new voice.

"Give me a minute!" the small boy next to him yelled back with equal volume. Sherlock blinked. He had assumed 'John' was quiet. He reminded himself to make no assumptions. "Sorry about that. Are you alright?"

"Of course." Why should he admit he was startled? Or even confess to making an incorrect assumption? He laughed at the ridiculous notion. John stared at him blankly.

"What are you talking about?" he scooted closer. "You talk pretty quietly. It's hard to hear you."

"That's because I'm not talking to you," he poked him in the forehead. "I'm talking to me."

John puffed his cheeks and poked back. "Poking people isn't very nice. Why are you talking to yourself?"

Sherlock shrugged it off. "No one else wants to listen."

"Oh," John looked down but quickly brightened again. "I want to listen."

Sherlock glanced at him. He looked away just as fast, his face red. "Flattery will get you nowhere. I talk about boring stuff, you don't want to hear it."

"It couldn't be that boring if you were laughing."

Sherlock sighed rather dramatically. This child could not be stopped. It was annoying nd pointless yet somewhat enjoyable. "What I find funny, other people don't."

"Just give it a try." John said, letting the ball roll away from him. His eyes shone and Sherlock found the word 'no' would stick in his throat and dissolve before he could spit it out. This kid must be a trained spy.

"Fine." He laid back, his curls creating a halo around his pale face in the grass. John laid back next to him, falling with more force. "I find it funny that people are always telling me to be like my older brother, when he's really not that great. They always compare me to him, but I'm not him. I...I don't want to be him."

"Why not?" He rolled over onto his belly and adjusted so he could hold his head right over Sherlock's. His short hair didn't come close to touching the other boy's face, but he was tickled by invisible things. Perhaps it was just giddiness. His chest did feel significantly lighter.

"Because I don't like him. And I don't know why they like him. He was a bad kid and he's a bad teenager too. He just gets good grades and keeps his mouth shut. He's a bad guy who works for the good guys."

John bit his lip in deep thought. Sherlock smiled a little. "Well, I don't know about him, but I think you're a great guy."

Sherlock snorted. "You don't even know my name."

"I guess. But you don't pick your name, so it doesn't really have to do with you." Sherlock rolled his eyes at this. "But I'd like to know your name. So I know what to call you."

Just when he was about to answer, John's face came crashing down upon his. Pain shot through his nose as John rolled onto his side with a groan. A large ball, the obvious weapon, laid beside him and Sherlock gave it a glare. But who was the attacker?

A girl slightly older than them both came running down the hill. Her hair was short and choppy, like she had cut it herself and she wore baggy jeans and a faded shirt. "Johnny, we've got to get going! Mum's going to be mad if I let you stay and play any longer!"

Sherlock quickly scrambled up and stood in front of John, ready to defend him against this villain even though he was scrawny and did not stand a good chance. John clutched his nose and pulled himself to his feet, walking right past his protector to his assailant. Sherlock stared in disbelief.

"Jeez Harry, I think you broke my nose..." He grumbled. She gave his arm a light punch, and Sherlock let out a small gasp. Not only was she willing to attack from a distance, but she would assault him head on in broad daylight?

He turned to Sherlock and sighed, his chubby hand still protecting his nose. "Sorry, but I've got to go. Will I see you later?"

His mind was racing a mile a minute. This woman must be keeping him prisoner. He obviously has Stockholm syndrome. He can't afford to try and pull apart the two now, it would take time for him to coax John back to a stable state of mind. So what was he supposed to do now?

Harriet tugged on John's hand and they started walking, John glancing back at his spaced out friend again. "Don't hang out with weird kids like that," she whispered to him.

"Wait!" Sherlock cried out suddenly, holding out a hand. John turned to look at him expectantly. Sherlock hesitated, his mind blanking out. "Uh, yeah. I'll...see you...again." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

But John grinned. "Okay! See you then!" Harriet tugged him along and he stumbled to catch up.

"Right..." He lowered his hand. "See you then."

And they did meet again, but John never knew.


End file.
